


It Won't Stay Like This

by tinylights



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Feels, Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Not Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase Two Compliant, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-18 18:40:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 41
Words: 13,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14858123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinylights/pseuds/tinylights
Summary: The Wakandans were not like this. The Wakandans held warm cloths to his face. They put him to sleep in a chamber built for preservation, but the cold did not sink its fangs through his skin. He felt warm- comfortable- as he calmly stepped into the machine, closed his eyes, and let the healing mechanism clear his mind and cool his veins.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is what I like to think happened between Civil War and Infinity War in the MCU.
> 
> I hope you enjoy ~

The cryo, this time, had been nothing compared to what he had felt before. No; it had been torture. Barely more than a measure to keep him docile- it kept him alive, but at a cost so steep it could not have been called humane.

The Wakandans were not like this. The Wakandans held warm cloths to his face. They put him to sleep in a chamber built for preservation, but the cold did not sink its fangs through his skin. He felt warm- _comfortable_ \- as he calmly stepped into the machine, closed his eyes, and let the healing mechanism clear his mind and cool his veins.

__

“Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky started, tipping his sleep-weighted head toward the sound.

“Is he- is- Steve?”

“No, Sergeant. Captain Rogers has not come to visit today.”

Bucky nodded, pinching the bridge of his nose and moving his palm to wipe the last traces of sleep from his eyes. “What do you need?”

The gentle, thickly accented voice continued. “We need to run diagnostics. You may no longer require the cryosleep chamber by the end of this week. Come, Soldier, I do not have all day.”

He nodded once more, reaching for the handrails on either side of the glass tube and gripping them as he took a shaky step out of the chamber.

“You slept for 27 days this time, Sergeant. You may feel a bit of disorientation and fatigue, but-”

“Yeah,” he muttered, “yeah, I do.”

“Good to note, thank you. It will wear off in about an hour.”

Bucky sat as still as he could while the girl did her work. She moved swiftly, nimble fingers alternating between attaching and adjusting various wires and swiping a message into her records. There were occasional questions, ‘Does that hurt at all?’ ‘What is your full name?’ He answered each by speaking as little as possible.

“Alright. We are done here. Do you require anything else, Sergeant Barnes?”

Bucky paused.

The girl sighed, crossed her arms, and cocked an eyebrow. “What is it?”

_Look away. Don’t acknowledge her. You are weak now, you cannot hide your thoughts. Nothing is safe-_

“Steve.”

“Yes?”

“Did he ever-“ pause, swallow, “Did he come to- while- you said 27 days?”

She nodded. “27. He comes to visit at least once every week. He protects when he is not here. Be proud of him, Soldier.”

Bucky let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. He glanced up with a soft smile.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. I… yeah.” Am anxious laugh escaped his lungs. “Hey, thanks, uh…?”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Seven weeks and you do not even know my name? Where is the gratitude around here?” She stuck out a hand. “Shuri.”

Bucky took it, shaking firmly. “Call me Bucky, doc.”

A smile instantly brightened Shuri’s face. “I’m no doctor, Bucky. Just a scientist.”

Something far behind Bucky’s conscious mind twitched. He shook his head and cracked a smile.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Bucky was never a heavy sleeper- not until Wakanda. Bucky had rarely ever gone to sleep with a full belly before Wakanda. He had not felt safe, he had not felt looked after- not for a long, long time.

Heavy sleep was something Bucky had not experienced, and therefore, it was terrifying. He awoke to find his normally razor-sharp senses dulled significantly; his body felt light yet lopsided, and he began to reflexively reach up to wipe the residual thick sleep from his eyes immediately after waking.

It was strange. It wasn’t something a weapon should do.

Bucky no longer slept in the glass tube for weeks and months on end. Instead, Shuri had given him a sturdy hut in a location of his choosing. He chose a spot adjacent to a small lake that never overflowed, near forests that never hid enemies and war animals that never charged.

While the feeling of settling in was truly completely strange to him, Bucky reveled in it. Apparently, so did Steve.

Steve flew in on a quinjet every Thursday evening. He kept in contact with Bucky in the days between Thursdays, sending voice messages to a comm system that Shuri had put in the hut. Bucky never sent a message back. If he sent a message back, Steve might not feel the need to visit on Thursdays. He might think that Bucky was only content to hear Steve’s voice.


	3. Chapter 3

His armor always had tears, some of them irreparable. Bucky repaired them as well as he could while Steve rambled on about anything on his mind. Their past, team stories, the plot of a movie Bucky hadn’t seen. Anything to fill the silence. Anything but his missions. Anything to keep Bucky from slipping through the gaps.

When Steve pushed the curtain hanging over the entrance of Bucky’s hut aside, he found Bucky sitting on his bedroll. A spool of vibranium thread, a small case containing needles of varying sizes, a bar of soap, and a bucket of water were neatly placed before him.

Steve froze, cleared his throat. Bucky stared.

“Hey, Buck.”

Bucky nodded. “Hey, Punk.”

Steve barked a sudden laugh, clearly caught by surprise.

He continued to laugh as Bucky held out a hand for his armor. Steve shook his head, put the bundle of cloth on the floor, and pulled Bucky up into a firm embrace.

Contact meant a blow. Contact meant a personal mission. Contact meant looking his victim dead in the eye as the color drained from them and blood shot through in streaks.

It meant that once.

Bucky awkwardly folded his arm across Steve’s back and leaned into him, tipping his face onto the man’s shoulder. Steve held Bucky tighter for a second before bringing him back, a hand still warm on his shoulder.

“How you been, Buck?”

Bucky felt his features soften, tension ebbing away through his limbs.

“These people... they’re good to me, Steve. I’m alright.”

Steve visibly relaxed. He tightened his grip on Bucky for a second before releasing him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky leaned down to pick up the discarded uniform, inspecting it for tears and stains.

There were too many of both. A bloodsoaked slash on the upper left side of the chest was the worst of it- someone had clearly tried to rub away the stain, but it had not been an expert hand. It had not been one who knew how to hide.

Bucky stared down at the tear, running his thumb over the frayed edge and feeling it still slightly damp. He threw the uniform over his shoulder and looked up at Steve. The man glanced away, guilt written across his features.

Bucky reaches up a fingertip and ran it over the spot on his chest where the weapon had hit the uniform. His fingertips lifted over the raised texture of stitches.

“That bad, huh?” he murmured, voice cracking slightly at the last vowel.

Steve sighed. “Buck, you know it’ll heal in a day, tops- Bucky, it’s okay, I’m fine-“

Bucky doesn’t say another word. He brings himself to his knees and dips the bundle of dark, filthy cloth into the water by his side.

There’s blood in the bucket and blood on his hands, knots in his stomach and tears on his face.


	4. Chapter 4

Wakanda was like nothing he’d ever seen. Vast mountains, unending forests beyond the protective dome that he only really assumed was even there. As far as he could tell, it was both invisible and impenetrable.

He made these observations on his first walk around the perimeter of the great State. He tired extremely slowly; whatever Zola has done to him all those years ago had stuck, no matter how hard he tried to shake it.

His walk lasted approximately 46 hours.

Spectacular sights greeted him with each new huddled step- women from each tribe carrying massive jars on their heads, laughing with each other as their bright but never gaudy garments flitted about in the gentle breeze; massive war rhinos and nearby forges that tinkled and clanged with the music of a workday; endless streams with herds of every kind of harmless animal running through and around and along them.

This man- this war-torn, haggard weapon- found a place to rest among a people that the rest of the world had never known.

Bronze light washed over him as he created the small rise that his hut was built upon. He walked on.

He paused and lowered himself to the ground by the water’s edge. A herd of zebra galloped up to the small lake, skidding to a halt and leaning down to sip clear water bathed in light.

_James Buchanan Barnes_ , he thought, _what on God’s green earth did you do to deserve this._


	5. Chapter 5

Three small children appeared near his hut one day. They seemed to be lying in wait for something. For what, Bucky had no idea- until he walked out from his sleeping hut.

All three children broke into fits of giggling, chattering the same phrase over and over to each other in Wakandan and gesturing to Bucky.

The soldier observed Shuri looking on quietly from a distance, arms crossed with a grin on her face.

“Hey, White Wolf! Finally come out of your den, have you now?”

The children burst into laughter, running to Shuri and hiding their faces in her skirts. They peeked over to Bucky repeatedly, their dark eyes shining with delight.

Bucky cocked his head. “‘White Wolf?’”

“Yes. That is what these children call you. We have two great fighters in our midst now: our king, and yourself.” She smiled down at the little ones, still gathered around her waist and murmuring to each other. “They have come to learn from you. They think you are a spirit among us.”

Bucky shook his head with a faint smile and bent at the knees, sitting back on his heels and reaching out his hand. The children fell silent.

Bucky flicked his fingers toward himself. “Come.”

The children looked to Shuri. She nodded. They shuffled toward Bucky with careful eyes and quick, measured steps. 

Bucky smiled softly at them. As they gathered about, he held up his hand to theirs, palm facing upwards.

“I ain’t a spirit. Just…” he looked to Shuri, who nodded quiet encouragement. “Just a man.”

One of the children tentatively placed their small pink palm in the center of Bucky’s, and the other two did the same soon afterwards. Bucky fluttered his fingers beneath their hands, and the children giggled. The child to the right of Bucky, the same who had first ensured he was flesh and blood, moved a tiny, chubby finger to Bucky’s forehead. Bucky bowed his head at the gesture, and the child declared a single Wakandan word.

With that, all three children nodded at Bucky, turned, and hurried back over the slope- back to the farming fields and huts beyond. Bucky looked to Shuri for an explanation. She just smiled, shook her head, and began to stroll back towards the city.


	6. Chapter 6

Bucky didn’t interact with T’Challa very much, but the king did come to visit him at times. Sometimes with Shuri, sometimes alone, but always with his chief of guard at his side.

“Greetings, Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky looked up from the fire he had been tending, wiping his ashy hand on a thick bit of cloth and rising to greet the king.

“King T’Challa.”

Kindness rested in the man’s gaze. He waved a hand through the air, brushing away Bucky’s formality. “Just T’Challa, please.”

Nod.

“How have you been settling in to my country, my friend?”

Bucky looked around him, at his three modest huts and firepit, the strips of meat curing over it and the massive loom that stood off to the side, a half-finished length of cloth draping from it.

He turned his eyes back to the king. The silence between them was not entirely expectant; it was comfort.

“You’ve got something good going here, T’Challa.” He shook his head. “I don’t... I don’t know how this place even exists.”

T’Challa nodded gravely, looking out over the water. “Wakanda has been kept safe by the Black Panther for generations. We are a private people, but our silence keeps us safe.”

Bucky kept his curious gaze focused on T’Challa, who stood in silence, lost in thought. Finally, the man passed a hand over his face and looked back to Bucky.

“I did not only come here for a visit, Bucky. I have a request.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows and said nothing. _Don’t make me fight, please, don’t put a gun in this hand that even now aches to pull a trigger-_

“I’d like you to come to Shuri’s lab tomorrow when the sun is at its highest. She is designing a new arm for you based on your previous diagnostics, and she would like your input.”

Bucky blinked. “You… no fighting?”

T’Challa’s eyes darkened, a line appearing between his brows. “No, my friend. I will not ask you to fight for Wakanda this day.”

“Thank you.”

The king laid a gentle hand on Bucky’s left shoulder. “You have seen too much war. Let us hope you may live in peace from now until your race is run.”


	7. Chapter 7

Bucky’s hand shook. He couldn’t remember if that was normal for him, so he didn’t do anything about it. He simply learned to pour cups of water only half-full, to move spoonfuls of broth quickly from bowl to lips, to make stitches small and even despite the minute twitching of the needle.

Steve came to Bucky’s hut early that Thursday evening; so early that it was hardly evening at all, and Bucky was just changing the shawl that ran across his shoulders when Steve swept aside the curtain.

“I thought I’d find y-“

Steve stopped dead in his tracks. Bucky glanced down at his bared left shoulder, the skin and residual scraps of metal there shining with old scars and new.

He couldn’t bear to meet Steve’s eyes.

Heavy footsteps moved towards him, and the soldier did nothing to intercept them until they stood about two feet away.

Steve eventually broke the silence, the shards of noise digging into Bucky’s panicked mind.

“Buck-“ Steve whispered, his voice broken and hardly audible.

Bucky threw a strip of cloth over his shoulder, concealing the tangled mass of flesh and still-embedded wire.

“Buck, no, don’t- Buck, it’s… damn it, Buck.” Steve stepped around Bucky and threw his arms around his shoulders. “Can’t they do anything about it here? Doesn’t it hurt?”

Bucky’s vision fogged. “No. The wires are too deep in my system. They wrapped up my shoulder blade- what was left of it- like a Christmas tree. Shuri’s not even sure that she can get it out. She can only make me another arm.”

Steve let out a heavy breath next to Bucky’s ear.

“This one’ll be better, Steve. She says she can make me feel things again, rewire the nerve endings or whatever. It- it won’t be a weapon anymore, Steve.” Bucky pulled back from Steve’s embrace and forced a smile. “I’ll be a two-armed man.”

Steve looked down. His anxious expression didn’t change; if anything, it became minutely worse.

“Buck.”

“Hm?”

“Your hand is shaking.”

Bucky tried to meet Steve’s eyes, but he was busy reaching for Bucky’s trembling fingertips.

“Yeah? Hasn’t it always done that?”

Steve’s gaze snapped back up to Bucky’s. “No, Buck. You were the best sniper in the U.S. Army. Your hands never even twitched, not once. God, you- you used to give me haircuts. You don’t remember that?”

Steve’s face blurred into obscurity.

“I don’t know, Steve. I don’t-I-I-“


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a long one, friends.

The next Thursday that Steve came around, he brought Sam.

Bucky glanced up amongst his pile of uniform-cleaning supplies as Steve moved into the room, his tied-up bundle of hair shifting at the back of his neck.

“Hey.”

Bucky felt the quiet pain in his voice cut through the air and run down his spine. He blinked. Blinked again. Tried not to let his mouth twist into a grimace.

“Hi, Steve.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “Can I, uh. Can I help you bring some of that outside?”

“What for?”

“Sam’s got a fire going.”

“Oh.” Silence. “Oh.”

“That okay?”

A short nod, then a quick and nimble gathering of objects. Steve grabbed the bucket and the soap, Bucky pinched three small loaves of bread in a cloth and took up the remaining thread and needles in his last three fingers. The two soldiers shared a glance and ducked out of Bucky’s hut into the cool evening air.

Sam was sitting on a boulder placed by the fire, casting in small handfuls of kindling periodically. He looked over as the men approached.

Bucky slowly set down his bundle in front of a long, sun-bleached driftwood log situated on the opposite side of the fire. Steve dropped himself down on the other end of the makeshift bench, looking more fatigued than Bucky had seen him in a long while. He handed Steve one of the small loaves, set one on the wood beside him, and held one out to the man opposite him.

“Sam,” Bucky greeted.

Sam took the loaf and nodded his acknowledgement. “How’re you holding up?”

Bucky held out his hand. In the pale light of the fire, his shivering appendage was barely visible. Steve must have told him, though. The man continued to stare into the flames.

“You know, I only realized that Steve’s uniform always comes back clean from his Thursday night Wakanda visits, like, two weeks ago. And I always assumed that it was just one of the locals, it was done so well.” He shook his head with a knowing smirk. “Guess it was wishful thinking to say you’d finally gotten away from the fight.”

Bucky swallowed, looked at Steve. His face was settled in his hands, the tips of his fingers laced through his hair.

“Have you shot a gun since Steve brought you here?”

Bucky shook his head. “No.” His lips pressed into a tight line, _don’t make me do it, Sam, please-_

“Did you shoot a gun before Steve brought you here?”

“I think so.”

“Elaborate.”

His mouth was too dry, his palm was sweating, his eyes could not move from the ground. “I don’t remember, Sam.”

“You don’t?”

“N-no, i-“

“Or you just don’t want to?”

Tears spilled down Bucky’s face, spotted the soiled uniform he didn’t realize he had been clutching in a death grip.

Sam’s voice was softer when he next spoke. “You don’t. You feel safe, and you don’t want to feel the bloodstains in the creases of that hand.”

Bucky dropped the uniform, and it slid over his leg and fell to the ground in a puddle.

“You don’t want to remember.”

Tears ran steadily down Bucky’s face.

“Sam, don’t- stop-“

“Steve. This is progress. Has he ever done that in front of you, man? Ever, since he got back?”

Steve looked as though he had just been slapped.

“After all that man,” Sam pointed to Bucky, who had his hand on his forehead and tears dripping from his chin, “has been through, you don’t think he deserves a second to breathe? To think? While he feels safe to do it?”

Steve looked away. Bucky’s entire body shook now. Sobs ravaged through his frame.

Sam strode around the fire and sat beside Bucky, his hands folded with his elbows on his knees.

“Look, it ain’t gonna get better before it gets worse. But you have to remember it. You have to talk about it, and you have to keep in mind that you’re not that man anymore.”

Bucky stared down at his hand. It shone with tears.

_If I’m not that man… what was he?_


	9. Chapter 9

Nakia came down with T’Challa to meet Bucky at one point. After that, she made the walk alone many times.

 

Nakia seemed to be able to sense suffering as easily as one could breathe. Bucky told her as much upon her third visit to him, and she just smiled.

 

“It is a good talent, yes?”

 

Bucky smiled. He had already mentioned his night with Sam and Steve to her, and she wasn’t surprised in the slightest- Sam had asked her to keep an eye on him when he couldn’t be there. Talking to Nakia was so similar to talking to Sam, it was almost odd.

 

“So tell me, Bucky Barnes,” she said, her easy steps leading them around the perimeter of the lake, “what is the earliest thing you can remember? And don’t-“ she cut off his protest- “say you don’t know. You know. You just do not want to tell me.”

 

Bucky glanced at the clouds, stopped, and sat down at the water’s edge. Nakia carefully folded herself on a patch of sparse grass by his side.

 

“Spring, 1927. Must’ve been my… tenth birthday…? Yeah. Steve, uh… he came to my apartment, slept over. He made me a paper bird out of newspapers. Folded the thing, origami or something. He painted it to look like a blue jay.” Bucky swallowed, stuttered a laugh. “No idea where the damn- uh, sorry-“ Nakia waved away his apology- “where the thing is now. God, I wish I’d kept it, though. The kid must’ve spent  _ hours _ on…”

 

Bucky blinked, hung his head. Nakia touched his shoulder lightly with a fingertip. “Hey, shhh. That was good, that was very good, Barnes.”

 

Bucky couldn’t answer. His teeth clattered together in the midst of a sudden, intense chill.


	10. Chapter 10

Your stomach is empty, you’ve retched up your lungs. Nothing is coming up but blood now. You want to apologize to the very ground you’ve spattered, that you dug your fingers into and laid on, gasping, but you can do no such thing.

 

Steve missed a Thursday. He missed a Thursday, and you waited up until dawn with your needle and thread. Your weapons against rejection have failed you. Every effort to stop the fight is gone.

 

It’s time to suit up.

 

Bucky stumbled to his feet and ran to his third hut. He rarely went inside it, and Shuri had argued with him for days about its existence.

 

“Why do you need it? Wakanda is safe, Wakanda-“

 

He shook the small voice from his head as he strode into the structure, hair falling into his eyes. Curtains lined every wall. He dragged them aside and flipped a switch. Every wall had built-in shelving, and every shelf was fully stocked with carefully organized and cleaned firearms. Knives hung on hooks drilled into alternating shelves. His gaze tunneled to each item he could carry as he shucked his robe and pulled on gear fit for war. Kevlar vest, stiff black canvas trousers, both sewn tightly with vibranium thread. Clean leather boots, grooved soles and thick laces and stitching of woven vibranium. Stick a knife in each boot, in your belt, strap one to your chest. Pull on the harness, handguns in its pockets and clips on the belt. Slip on ammo bag and two sheaths with a knife in each. Every weapon deadly sharp, every muscle poised to kill. Close the curtains, shut off the harsh light, silently close the iron door and pull the curtain back in front of it to conceal the fact that you have an arms shed nine feet from the place you lay your head at night.

 

The soldier strode toward the city. He had to find Shuri. There was not a doubt in his mind that he was lethal with one arm, but the lack of his weaponized appendage meant unoptimized performance; possible hesitation and raised risk of recognition. He needed to-

 

“What on  _ earth  _ are you doing?”

 

The question was asked much more like a statement than anything else. A simple accusation, directed at the man with dark, tangled hair and sharp eyes, a mask concealing the lower half of his face.

 

Still tense, the soldier clipped out a reply. “No sign of him at the usual time. It was Thursday. He missed the rendezvous time.”

 

“The rendezvous- you speak of Steve Rogers?”

 

Sharp nod.

 

T’Challa squeezed his eyes shut and sighed. “When was the last time he sent a voice call?”

 

“51 hours ago. Nothing was mentioned of a previous engagement.”

 

T’Challa nodded. “Right. Barnes, please know that I will not fight you now. I need the suit to communicate with Captain Rogers.”

 

The soldier laid a casual hand on the hilt of the knife at his waist.

 

“No, my friend. No knives. I am not here to hurt you.”

 

He swung the hand back to his side. Five weapons still almost immediately accessible, eleven concealed options.

 

The king of Wakanda lifted his hands in the air above his head in a gesture of surrender as his suit flitted over his skin. The soldier trained his eye for any sign of an incoming threat.

 

“I am contacting Rogers now.” He tilted his head slightly to the side. “Captain Rogers. Yes- Wakanda is safe- it is indeed about him- no, he is- Captain, please allow me to speak... You seem to have neglected to let him know that particular fact… We are all busy, Captain. I have a super soldier standing before me now clad in full battle armor and more weapons than I even know, ready to follow you into a war… Perhaps you should get to that.”

 

The suit shifted back to the spiked metal ring that laid across T’Challa’s chest.

 

“Rogers is safe.” 

 

Bucky narrowed his eyes, incredulous. 

 

“You may want to get back inside, Barnes. Rogers will attempt a voice call in a few seconds.”

 

Bucky swiveled and sprinted back to his hut. T’challa looked on, shook his head, and continued on his way.


	11. Chapter 11

“Bucky? Come on, Buck, I can’t do all the talking this time, please-”

 

“Hey, Steve.”

 

A slightly crackling sigh of relief sounded from the small disc in the soldier’s palm. The device cast a pale purple glow across the otherwise pitch-black hut.

 

“Buck, my god, T’Challa said-“

 

“I know what T’Challa said. I was standing right in front of him.”

 

“Right.”

 

Silence.

 

“You don’t have to fight anymore. You know that, right?”

 

Bucky took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. The air still shook as it passed his lips. “There’s always gonna be a war, Steve.”

 

“Buck-“

 

“And I’m always gonna follow you into every single goddamn fight you get your ass into.”

 

“But-“

 

“And you ain’t gonna stop me, pal.”

 

Steve didn’t respond. Bucky could almost hear him crossing his arms, leaning back in his chair.

 

“You talk big,” Bucky went on, his words becoming less sharp as he spoke. “You don’t think you need me to step in to hold you up. Fact of the matter is, I’m gonna do it. Whether you like it or not, I’m gonna do it.

 

“You’d better believe me when I tell you that I’m with you ‘til the end of the line, Steve. I always have been.”

 

Steve was silent for a moment. 

 

“Bucky… I’m fine, Buck. The quinjet needed repairs, I thought I could make it in time. You can’t just- you don’t have to- to deck yourself out in guns and knives and whatever else every time I miss a day.”

 

“I thought you were dead.”

 

Steve let out a long, slow breath.

 

“I thought you were dead, dying, or captured.”

 

“Buck, I-“

 

“You can’t miss the rendezvous point, Steve, not without communicating.”

 

“... I won’t, Buck. I won’t. Jesus, I-“

 

“Every Thursday.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, every Thursday.”

 

“And if you can’t make it, you’ll call.”

 

“I will.”

 

Bucky paused, looked at the device.

 

“Steve?”

 

“Hm?”

 

Bucky took in a shaky breath and let it out slow.

 

“Goodnight, Steve.”

 

A faint shift from Steve’s end. “Sleep well, Buck.”

 

Bucky passed his thumb over the disk. The room faded to black.


	12. Chapter 12

A large clay jar appeared on his doorstep one day, one that must have been able to hold at least eight gallons of water. A sturdy handle protruded from one side, and a ring of rope lined the bottom.

It was a welcome sight.

Bucky had never really worked out his water situation. He had several canteens, and he continuously filled them at a clear-running stream by the lake. Someone had taken notice; someone had given him a gift.

Carefully, he lifted the jar by its handle. It rose surprisingly easily, even as it was already filled with water. He placed it on his head and kept a firm grip on the handle, taking a careful step forward. The water inside sloshed but did not fall.

“Do you like it?”

Bucky started, whipping around with the jar still resting on his head.

Nakia snickered. “I figured you could use one. I don’t know if you have seen it, but there is a well just past that field there.” She made a vague gesture. Bucky tightened his grip on the handle and nodded his understanding.

Nakia’s eyes darkened in concern. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah.”

She didn’t look convinced in the slightest.

“Come, Bucky. I will show you the well.”

Without looking to see if he would follow, Nakia turned and began her trek through the softly waving grass.

—

“So he missed a Thursday.”

“Yeah.”

“And you have a fully stocked weapons closet.”

Nod.

Nakia sighed.

“He is alright, no?”

“He is. Well, he says he is. Quinjet malfunctioned, I guess.”

“You guess.”

“Yeah.”

The two approached a huge, squat cobblestone structure- square in shape, Wakandan characters etched into the sides. Each wall was about three feet high, and there were pulleys with huge copper buckets hanging from them positioned evenly around its perimeter.

“But you do not believe him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why?”

Bucky set his jar on the ground beside the well.

“I do. But I don’t.”

Nakia’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

“I think he went too far this time. Got ripped up in a fight, and he doesn’t want me to see him because he knows I’ll be worried.”

“But-“

“And he’s gonna wait ‘til next Thursday to show up again. He’s gonna wait until his scars are healed and his bones don’t show.” Bucky shifted uncomfortably. “Watch, that’s what’ll happen.”

“But… you have no proof of this.”

Shadows of Brooklyn alleyways, anxious cigarettes and empty bottles bobbed through Bucky’s mind. He stared into the well. “He’s done it before.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

Nakia had to leave on a mission. Bucky considered walking to the launchpad to inspect her jet, to make sure it was completely safe.

 

It was Thursday, though. Steve hadn’t called since last Thursday. Bucky figured that meant he was on his way.

 

Bucky began to clean his huts. He hadn’t ever been able to do anything but sweep them before; his water supply had been too small. He carefully cleaned each of his sewing needles, washed his bedroll and hung it on a line that stretched between two of the huts. Washed out the bucket, restocked his soap supply from one of his baskets. Dusted off his two curtains: one for the door and one for the window.

 

By the time the sun began to sink, he had cleaned every weapon in the third hut and made three trips to and from the well. No one had come to see him all day save for a few flocks of birds overhead.

 

The soldier knit his brow, confused. His solitude was not comfort today. The opposite was true, actually.

 

This was new.


	14. Chapter 14

He thinks there was a time, once, when he was not a soldier. He is almost positive that he did not appear in this world with a gun in his palm and a knife at his hip.

He contemplated this, staring into the fire, as Steve approached. He knew Bucky was aware of his presence; he simply sat beside him on the driftwood log to announce his presence. He crossed his arms and looked at Bucky. The silence was not charged, and it was not expectant. Bucky sat. Steve watched him.

It was Bucky who spoke first, but not for a long moment.

“You came back.”

Steve ducked his head, turned to the fire. “Yeah, Buck. I did.” He lifted an arm, hesitated, and brought it around Bucky’s shoulders.

“End of the line,” he murmured.

Bucky closed his eyes.


	15. Chapter 15

The city teemed with life. Bucky knew he should have felt incredibly claustrophobic. He _should_ have, but he didn’t. He still scanned the crowds for threats, he filed away possible escape routes in the back of his mind, but he felt comfort in the crowds. The laughs bubbling up from children weaving around skirts and robes, some merchants good-naturedly calling out their goods and customers bartering lightly with others. Colors, sunlight, spots of shade. Dusty sandals, gleaming holograms, fruit reflecting a polished glow.

As with the rest of this wonderful place, Bucky had never seen anything like it.

He stepped through the crowds without touching a soul. The people of Wakanda parted politely for him, some giving him a friendly glance while others simply looked on. Never did he sense hostility; never did he feel eyes on his back.

Guilt settled on his shoulders for the knife under his cloak. He hoped anyone who noticed it would simply ignore it, though it was unlikely anyone would even be able to tell it was there.

Bucky bought a large canvas knapsack and began to fill it with random purchased goods. Shuri had granted him a bit of money each week, knowing full well that he mostly survived on fish from the lake and grain salvaged from fields. He had been saving for this trip for a long while.

He found a small wooden mouse- almost too realistic in how it was carved- and a small box that claimed to be a 'vegetable garden starter pack.' He exchanged coins and notes for a small stone trowel, a single soft canvas glove, and a small bottle labeled to be 'plant food.' He bought a wind chime, a ladle, and finally, a set of three beautifully painted ceramic mugs.

The kind shopkeeper who sold him the set also gave him a small notecard with an unknown recipe on it. “For good dinner,” she said. “I help you, come.” The small, stooped woman slowly climbed down from her stool and gripped the crook of Bucky’s outstretched arm. She leaned on him heavily as she helped him pick out various spices and necessary vegetables. As the two passed seemingly endless crates of fruit, Bucky stopped. He nodded toward a pile of round, deep purple plums. The woman picked one up, checked its ripeness, and gently set it in his bag. She tilted her head and squinted at Bucky’s face as she did so, but she said nothing.

She refused to let Bucky pay for the food. “Just a few little things,” she said. “Have not seen you here before. You come back now, no?”

Bucky felt warmth fill his chest and a smile grace his face. “Of course. Thank you, ma’am.”

The woman returned his smile. “Thank you, boy.”


	16. Chapter 16

Word around the well was that a man named Klaue had stolen something from Wakanda. Bucky was confused, but he did not ask the women any questions. They did not seem worried; they were more annoyed than anything.

Bucky became concerned when he received a voice call from Shuri.

“Stay where you are,” the muffled voice said from inside his hut. “Whatever happens, stay where you are.”

Bucky looked up at the sudden voice, setting down his watering can and leaning his forearm on the windowsill.

“Shuri. Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

“There is a man, his name is-“

“Klaue, yeah-“

“No! Not Klaue, listen to me- he calls himself Killmonger, his name is N’Jobu-“

“Wakandan?”

“Yes- no- stay where you are, White Wolf, we do not want you to fight this day.”

“What’s going on?”

Shuri ended the call.


	17. Chapter 17

Bucky stared at the sky. Soft orange faded into gold that faded into a deep blue-gray. A woman, dressed in dark robes, had raced to his hut and breathlessly told him to run earlier that day.

“The king is dead,” she gasped. “Killed in ritual combat. My son, do not let them find you, they will force you to join them or to die yourself-“

The realization dawned on him later that her robes signified mourning.

“The King’s sister told me to stay right here, ma’am. Here is where I’ll stay.”

Tears filled the woman’s eyes. She crossed her arms weakly over her chest in salute.

“Wakanda forever.”

Bucky bowed his head, mirroring her gesture. “Wakanda forever.”


	18. Chapter 18

Steve did not come to visit that Thursday, but Bucky did not try to find him. If the king was truly dead, it wasn’t safe for Steve to enter the country.

Bucky packed up everything from his first two huts and moved it all into the third. He was eternally glad for the advice of the women at the well to plant his garden in spare baskets to keep the animals from eating them at night; he pulled those inside, too. Everything was neatly organized so that he still had just enough space to curl up in the midst of it all and sleep.

He didn’t sleep.

He crouched with the door cracked open, listening for footsteps. A rifle rested on the upturned water jar before him. As a precautionary measure, he told himself, as he loaded it with tranquilizers.

He switched them out for vibranium bullets on the second day.

Bucky ran out of water on the fourth day of waiting. He decided, after a full morning of debating it and shaking every last drop from his canteens and mugs, to make the trip to the well.

Once he had satisfactorily positioned seven knives, four guns, and his kevlar vest and harness underneath his robes for both easy access and discretion, he picked up the jar and headed out. He held it carefully against his chest this time, his arm wrapped through its handle and around the bulbous container.

A group of women were already sitting on the edge of the well as he approached. The three children whom Bucky often saw running about, some of his first visitors in Wakanda, crowded around them. They clutched at their mothers’ robes.

Cautiously- barely audibly- one of the mothers spoke.

“Hello, Bucky.”

Bucky set his jar beside the stone wall. “How’re you holding up?”

The mother looked away. “The king wants to start a war.”

“He’s not king.”

She bobbed her head. “No. He will never be T’Challa.”

“But,” another of the women interjected, “he is still the king.”

Bucky huffed in disbelief. “Some king,” he muttered.

Tears filled the eyes of the first mother. “What will we do, my friend? My husband, he is forced to wage war against his brothers. My sisters,” she swept her hand towards the four other women, “we fear for our sons, for our daughters. They are- they are so young, my Wolf-“

Bucky settled a hand on her shoulder. He continued to steady her as tears ran down her cheeks.

“And-“ she hiccuped, “and what of our homes? They were in the outskirts of the city, he has his war animals- patrolling, I-I-“

“Come to my home, Sarihah. I have too much space, and I can build more when the dust settles.”

She looked up, fear shining bright from her face.

“They have not found you? They have not- you are one of-“

“No. No, no, no, you fear too much.” Bucky stood and offered her his hand. “The White Wolf is not a part of this fight. Come, stay with me. Bring your sisters, and sisters, bring your sons.”

He helped her up, picked up his empty jar, and waited for the others to follow. 


	19. Chapter 19

All five of the women insisted upon collectively taking the second hut for them and their children, waving away his protests and shaking their heads.

In an effort to preserve his secret, Bucky moved back into the first. He closed the door behind himself every time he left it with another armload of possessions. The women made their home a home while Bucky snuck between the huts. They kept the children busy and asked no questions.

Bucky had never told anyone what the second hut was for. But now that Steve wouldn’t be returning for a long while, a guest house was no longer required.

Bucky collapsed onto his bedroll at the end of the day, only just then realizing that one of the women had refilled his jar.


	20. Chapter 20

Bucky drifted into wakefulness to the feeling of being watched. Three small faces, painted yellow and white, leapt away and hurried out the door as soon as he opened his eyes.

He looked around the room, confused. Everything was still in place, everything-

The past four days came rushing back to him.

He stumbled up from his bedroll and to the water jar, drinking his fill and splashing his face and hands.

Bucky paused. Shuri…?

Cautiously, he stepped out of the hut. He squinted in the sunlight, blinking away the brightness.

Shuri.

She grinned at him as he slowly approached, her gleeful expression fading into one of quiet interest. 

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky paused for a moment.

She’s waiting. She’s waiting to be sure that you’re still you.

“Bucky.”

Shuri tilted her head in concern, flicked a questioning glance back to the bustling second hut. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.” Bucky took in a breath, looked out over the lake. He looked back to Shuri. “Thank you.”

Shuri nodded. “Come.” She began to move away. “Much more for you to learn.”


	21. Chapter 21

“T’Challa’s alive?”

Shuri nodded. “Very much so.”

Shuri’s quick steps and Bucky’s long strides punctuated the still air around them as the two drew nearer to Shuri’s lab.

“N’Jobu’s dead.” Bucky looked to Shuri for confirmation.

“What did I just tell you?”

Bucky drew a hand over his face. “Shuri, it’s been- it’s- less than a week-“

Shuri giggled. “Yes? And what of it?” She cast a searching look in his direction. “Wakanda is only going to continue changing, Bucky.  I suggest you try to keep up.”

Bucky shook his head. “This place… this is insane.”

Shuri smirked as she tapped a series of digits into a holographic keypad on the wall. “Yeah?” The door slid silently upward as she lifted a flat upturned palm before it, revealing a softly glowing corridor lined by guards locked in Wakandan salute. Shuri nodded at them as she stepped through and into her lab. “You have not seen the half of it.”

Bucky glanced about the lab, noting subtle differences in appearance and tech since his days in cryo. T’Challa’s suit stood against the opposing wall, next to a mannequin with a gold spiked collar resting on its chest. Off to the side stood a glass table cluttered with what looked to be guns, knives, and something else- a softly sculpted lump of vibranium laced with gold accents…

_ No. _

Bucky stopped dead in his tracks before an arched doorway that stood in the center of the room, surrounded by a stretch of colorfully painted wall. Shuri took no notice; she continued into her workspace and flicked a few tabs around on the massive console, checking some sort of readings and shifting a series of flat switches and dials in different directions. Once satisfied, she turned to Bucky.

“Apologies for ignoring you for a moment there; the thermostat system in here is phenomenal, but it shuts off whenever I leave. Where were we?”

_ No, no, not the chair- _

“Bucky,” she questioned, eyes cautious and one hand outstretched in a placating gesture, “what is the matter?”

_ Chair, желание, pain, ржaвый, stop, Семнадцать,  _ please _ , Рассвет- _

“Bucky!”

The soldier blinked. Blinked again. He was huddled against a stone wall, shuddering uncontrollably and dripping in a cold sweat. His palm was scratched and bleeding, his fingernails jagged and split. Panicked, he raised his eyes to Shuri.

“What did I do?”

Shuri gestured to the wall beside him. White scrapes tinged with red drew four broken lines down to where he now sat.

Bucky cradled his hand to his chest, curled in his legs, and rested his forehead on his knees.

“I did not know you could speak Russian,” Shuri murmured. “I guess I have yet to learn from you.”

Bucky glanced up and over her shoulder. The chair was still there. He shuddered.

“What is it?”

“You need me to fight again.”

Shuri’s gaze softened. She stood, then crouched down and wrapped an arm around Bucky’s torso, straining a bit to lift his shaking form from the ground. “No, Bucky. Not today.” She met his eyes and smiled lightly. “I only wanted to show you what I have built for you, but perhaps today is not the best time.”

Bucky shook his head. “No. No, you can-I can do this, just-don’t-don’t-the chair-“

Shuri whipped around and barked an order in Wakandan. A panel of frosted blue glass slid over the open doorway.

Bucky let out a shivering breath, leaning heavily on the small girl by his side.

“Let us do this tomorrow, no?”

He nodded weakly, his gaze fixed on the ground.

“I will contact Captain Rogers-”

The room faded to black.


	22. Chapter 22

”-and you didn’t even like the movie, you just wanted to get me somewhere warm during the wintertime.” Gentle laughter reached Bucky’s ears. “You paid fifty cents for the both of us, and you refused to eat more than a few bites of bread for the next few days-“

“Steve?”

“Buck.” A hand squeezed his shoulder. “Buck, thank god.”

Bucky cracked open his eyes and strained to see Steve’s face in the dimly-lit room. Once his eyes had adjusted, he realized he was back in his hut. Steve was sitting beside him, his long legs half-stretched out and his heels resting on the ground.

Bucky cleared his throat. “H-how long have you been sitting there?”

Steve shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.”

_ So a while, then. Days? _

“Shuri said you started spouting Russian?”

Bucky said nothing.

“Buck, she’d never hurt you. No one here would. That chair- it’s meant to help, not to hurt.”

“Yeah?” Bucky’s gaze flicked up to Steve’s. “And the guns? Were those to help, too?”

Steve glanced away. “Bucky-“

“What about the arm, Steve? The knives?”

“Buck, I’m sure-“

A shock of cold ran down Bucky’s spine at the memory. “Steve, they want me to be the Soldier.”

Steve looked back to Bucky. He opened his mouth, closed it, and sighed.

“Buck, they want you to be  _ a  _ soldier. They can’t make you do anything.”

“They have a chair.”

“Bucky, no, that is  _ not  _ what that chair is for.”

“Then what’s it for?”

Steve shrugged. “Ask Shuri sometime, I dunno. Science stuff, probably.”

“Right.”

“You sound unconvinced.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Really?”

Steve nudged his shoulder. “Hey. Get up and drink something.”

Bucky slowly sat up. He happened to glance down at his hand- scarred over, new fingernails recently clipped.

“How long was I out?”

“Three days.”

Bucky counted back. “It’s… Tuesday?”

“Yeah, Buck.”

“It’s not a Thursday.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.”


	23. Chapter 23

The husbands of the women that inhabited the second hut came back together one day. Their heads were held high, but their steps were not light.

They carried a stretcher. A body was covered by a sheet.

A woman’s hand flew to her mouth at the sight of the approaching men. A wretched sob ripped through her, a wail in her next breath. She fell to her knees and clutched at her chest, gasping for breath as tears flowed down her face.

Bucky stood from tending his plants. Steve leaned out of the doorway, saw the group nearing the huts, and looked to Bucky. He motioned Steve toward the men, murmuring that he should find out what happened.

Bucky turned and walked to the grieving widow’s side.

“Eyilah,” he murmured.

She looked up. The hope in her eyes died when they met his own. Her face contorted into a sob.

“He did not come back. He-h-he did not-“ she broke off into desperate gasps.

Bucky wrapped his arm around her shoulders for a second. He handed her a small square of cloth. She leaned into him for a moment, then straightened and wiped her eyes with the handkerchief.

“Come, White Wolf.” She took a deep breath. “We must honor him with pride.”

Two women approached her, the other two held back the children. Bucky let them comfort her and walked up to the men.

Steve stood with his arms crossed over his chest, looking down at the ground. One of the men was still speaking.

“...he would kneel only to King T’Challa. There was nothing we could do.”

Steve nodded, expression unchanging. He looked to Bucky.

“Executed for treason.”

Bucky nodded.

Eyilah walked to the men, clutching the women on either side of her for balance.

She lifted her chin and spoke.

“Did he die for Wakanda?”

Some bowed their heads, one turned away.

Steve looked up at her. “He died for T’Challa.”

She nodded sharply, laying a hand on the rounded belly beneath her robes. “Then he stood for what is right.”


	24. Chapter 24

Bucky watched the children while Steve helped their parents and relatives move back to their homes. He had offered for Eyilah to stay, but she had refused.

 

— 

 

“My sisters, they will help me raise my child.” she murmured. She stared out over the water, then turned to Bucky.

“You have known loss. Tremendous loss.”

Bucky nodded.

Eyilah squinted at him. “You have lived a long life. Too long for one man, yes?”

Bucky turned back to the lake. She reached out and held his hand in both of hers.

“You have been good to me, Wolf. I am grateful.”

“If you ever need a place to stay again-“

“I will come to you first.” She smiled, gripped his hand tighter. The smile dropped from her face. She sighed. “I must go.”

Bucky nodded to her as she let go of his hand. “Say hi to the kid for me.”

Her smile returned, and she let out a short laugh. “My child will hear many tales of the good White Wolf in its days.”

 

—

 

Bucky blinked. Steve chased the giggling children around their former temporary home, growling and peeking around corners to make them shriek and run.

Eyilah turned back, balancing her water jar on her head- the last of her possessions. She looked at Bucky.

Bucky nodded, lifted his forearm across his chest, and bowed his head in Wakandan salute.

She took her jar down from her head, lifted her eyes to the cloudless sky, and crossed her arms before her.


	25. Chapter 25

Bucky walked into Shuri’s lab. It was dark, save for one light above a metal chair in the middle of the space. It dripped with fresh blood.

Two pairs of hands gripped his metal arm. They threw him into the chair and clamped down leather restraints so tightly that they cut into his flesh.

Bucky didn’t resist them.

They held a piece of rubber to his mouth, and he bit it willingly. He didn’t look at their faces; he didn’t need to. Seeing a monster’s face only makes you fear it less.

One of the men walked to his side and jammed a metal instrument beneath one of the plates of his arm. Bucky screamed around the bite guard, clenching his teeth together as searing pain stabbed his limb and cut through his ribcage.

He couldn’t breathe.

The man pried one panel off of his arm and moved to the next.

 

—

 

Tight grip on his wrist, a fiery pain at his left side. He reached for the dagger beneath his bedroll with his left hand.

He couldn’t move his arm.

Bucky screamed through gritted teeth. Screamed as loudly as possible with tears streaming from his eyes and hoped someone would hear him-

“ _ Buck! _ ”

“St-steve,” Bucky gasped. “Steve? Steve, I can’t feel my arm, I can’t see, what’d they do to me, Steve-“

“Who-what-Bucky, which arm?”

“Left. Left, the metal one-“

“Bucky? Listen to me. You’re in Wakanda, you have been for a year.”

Bucky’s chest heaved.

“You were dreaming.”

He opened his eyes to see the soft glow of a candle illuminating Steve’s face. His hand was on Bucky’s arm, gently holding him down.

“Steve…”

“You’re safe, Buck.”

Bucky blinked, let his damp head fall back to the pillow. 

“Yeah.”

 

—

 

Thursday came and went.


	26. Chapter 26

“I see you have exchanged eight neighbors for one.”

Bucky looked up with a smile, sloshing from the lake back to land and laying his fishing spear in the long grass. 

“Back from the ‘States?”

T’Challa hummed. “I figured I would pay you a visit.”

“Thank you.”

The king nodded. “This visit is not just for you.” He slipped off his sandals and walked out to where the water lapped gently on the shore. “Shuri tears herself up with worry.”

Bucky cast his gaze downward.

“She did not realize how badly your past had affected you. She does now.”

Bucky looked out over the water, breathing in time with the waves. “There’s a lot worth protecting here, T’Challa.”

“It sounds like you have been living up to those words.”

“I gave them a place to stay. I wish I could have done more.”

T’Challa gazed at him, searching. “Could you? One day?”

Bucky swallowed. Tipped his head. “I’d need to train first.”

“Of course.” T’Challa slipped his sandals back on his feet and gave Bucky a final glance. “Tell me when you are ready. I will bring your weapons to you.” He paused. “No more of the chair, Bucky. We will never do that to you. You fight of your own free will or you do not fight at all.”


	27. Chapter 27

Steve started getting calls on his cell phone from his team. He must have thought Bucky didn’t notice the subtle swipes of his fingers to reject them.

Bucky noticed.

The first one Bucky heard Steve answer, however, wasn’t a call to action.

Bucky laid still on his bed, facing the wall- holding his breathing steady and his eyelids shut- waiting for the telltale, too-loud buzz of Steve’s phone against the basket he knew he set it on.

A second past the start of the buzz, Steve must have answered. A slight rustling noise, and he was out the door and leaning against the side of the hut.

“Yeah? Sam, hey… yeah, he’s sleeping now. Nightmares don’t usually start for an hour or two… I don’t know how they could be getting better. I don’t know what to do… no… I’m not taking him to the- no, Sam… you really think… alright. Can you make it here anytime in the next week?... right… yeah, no, I get it… how’s Natasha? ... and Wanda? … Vis?... yeah… okay. Yeah, maybe I can get him a phone… ‘kay. Goodnight, Sam.”

Steve ducked back inside. Bucky blinked and turned over, pretending to rub sleep from his eyes.

“Hey,” he muttered. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, Buck. Go back to sleep.” Bucky got up and walked over to the water jar. Steve grumbled a bit, and Bucky, supersoldier hearing and all, only caught “or don’t, I guess, you little…”. 

He smiled into his mug. 


	28. Chapter 28

Steve had never really had the chance to take a long walk through Wakanda. Since Steve had zero sense of direction and even less knowledge of Wakanda’s most beautiful sights, Bucky was his guide.

He showed Steve the well, calling out a greeting to a familiar group of women in halting Wakandan. They grinned at him and called back in kind, correcting his small pronunciation mistakes in the process. He nodded his thanks.

He showed Steve the marketplace. He visited the kind shopkeeper from a time so long ago but not long ago at all. Her mouth split into a toothless grin at the sight of Steve.

“You come back! You bring another!”

Bucky smiled. “I did, ma’am. Do you have any new recipes?”

She waved her hand at him and faked a bashful expression. ”Already know I do, boy. I give you book, yes?”

She reached below her small counter and produced a metal cube, just about the size of Bucky’s outstretched hand. She opened the lid with a button on the side, and it was revealed to be packed with recipe cards.

“From simple to not,” she told him, pointing from the front of the box to the back. She pulled out a notecard written entirely in Wakandan and ran her fingertip down the side. The letters faded, and when she ran her fingertip back up, the recipe appeared in English. “Good for learn Wakandan, yes. Your language written by my grandson. He teach me English now.”

Bucky smiled at her. “Thank you.”

She waved away the words. “Ach. You come back, I give you more, yes?”

“Yes ma’am.”

She nodded her approval. “You bring your friend. Handsome young man.”

Bucky laughed, and Steve grinned at her. “Why, thank you, ma’am.”

She waved the two of them away as a customer approached. “Go, go. I help him now.” She began to converse with the newcomer in rapid-fire Wakandan.

Bucky showed Steve the palace, but he didn’t go inside. He pointed out the mountains, the rhinoceros stables, the forges. He showed him the sunset from a cliff high above the city, watching lights blink to life as the sky went dark.

Under the stars, when their journey came to an end, he showed Steve the universe reflected off of the lake. The night was completely clear, and with Wakanda’s dome, they could see even more of the stars than were normally visible to the naked eye.

“This is…” Steve trailed off into silence.

Bucky looked to Steve, who stared up at the sky with an expression of complete wonder on his face.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kind feedback, friends! Your encouragement means the world to me ♥


	29. Chapter 29

Keep him close, closer than you’d like to admit. You’re afraid. You don’t want to be alone again. You haven’t wondered whether he was dead or alive in weeks; he was always only a few steps away. You would give anything to stay here forever.

This place… Bucky owed it so much.

_ So fight to keep it this way. _

Bucky set his empty bowl aside and looked up to meet Steve’s gaze. He was just finishing his share of their simple breakfast- a newfound favorite recipe out of the shopkeeper’s box.

“I need to train.”

Steve stopped chewing, raised his eyebrows, and set his fork inside the wooden bowl that rested on his lap.

“Why’s that?” he asked, wiping his mouth and hands with a small bit of cloth.

“T’Challa wants me to fight for Wakanda.”

Steve stared at his hands. “Do you?”

“What?”

“Do  _ you _ want to fight for Wakanda?”

Solemn nod.

Steve looked up, past the fire and through the huts. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He drew a hand over his face. “I’ll contact T’Challa.”

Keep him close. Don’t let him slip his hand from yours. Let him lift you from the ground; you’re paralyzed without his help.


	30. Chapter 30

T’Challa visited later that day. Shuri and Okoye walked close behind, guiding a hovering platform with several boxes arranged upon it through the grasses.

Bucky waited for them by the fire, Steve by his side. They stood as the group approached. 

T’Challa smiled, holding out a hand in greeting. 

Bucky returned his grip.

“My friend,” T’Challa murmured, “Thank you.”

Bucky nodded, turning to gaze out at the landscape surrounding them. “This place, these people…” He turned back to T’Challa. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Your kindness to my people does not go unnoticed, Bucky. You have done the least, and more besides.” He gestured for Shuri and Okoye to come forward. “We have much to discuss. First, however, I believe Shuri wanted to speak with you.”

Shuri gave him a tentative glance.

Bucky nodded to her.

“No more lab,” she said, cautious. “I will meet you in the palace armory if you should have need of these weapons here. If you like it, you may keep the arm-“

“No.” 

Okoye raised an eyebrow.

Bucky tried and failed to still his shaking hand against his side. “Thank you, but no.”

Shuri smiled. “I did not think so. You are... unusually adept with only the one. It may be good to train with it regardless, though.”

She turned to the platform beside her and unlatched a long, dark metal case. She stepped aside to reveal an arm, made of an almost matte metal with features of brushed gold.

“You can take it out. It is not difficult to attach to your current joint, but I should show you how to accomplish it before you attempt-“

“It’s lighter.”

Shuri smiled smugly. “I should hope it is. It is entirely vibranium- I added a few touches of Wakanda with the coloring.”

Bucky smiled. “Looks nice.” He held it out to Steve, whose eyebrows shot up immediately after taking it.

“It feels… alive.”

“That is literally the entire point,” Shuri scoffed, taking the arm from him and cradling it in her own. “An arm should not be a weapon. May I?” She asked, turning to Bucky and pointing to his left shoulder.

Steve raised his eyebrows at him, and Bucky shrugged.

He unwrapped the strip of cloth that hid his scarred flesh from over his robes, letting it drop to the ground. Shuri stepped closer to him, unhooking wires capped with tiny metal cylinders from where they had been wrapped inside the new arm. Bucky watched silently, memorizing her movements as she clipped existing wires to new ones of the same colors. Finally, she pressed a button inside the new arm. A soft yellow light glowed from within it as she held it up to his shoulder. Suddenly, she let go of it, and it snapped to his body as if it was magnetic.

Bucky stood still, not sure what to do.

“You can move it.”

Bucky nodded to Shuri. Slowly, carefully, he made his hand into a fist and flexed the arm. The plates shifted silently to comply with his action.

He lifted it out at his side, bent in his elbow. It moved fluidly and with little effort.

Shuri turned to Steve. “Captain Rogers?”

“Hm?”

“Try to rip it off.”

Steve blinked. “Come again?”

Shuri gestured impatiently to the arm. “Go on! Destroy it”

Steve hesitated. “It’s just attached by a few wires, I don’t want to-“

“Steve,” Bucky interrupted. “I can take it.”

Bucky watched Steve step up to him, waited for the sudden tearing sensation at his shoulder as the flesh there began to rip apart. Instead, he felt a shock of sensation on his arm- a warm, soft palm against cool metal.

He stared at the arm. “What the hell-“

“It works!” Shuri whooped.

Steve looked between the two of them, confused. “What works?”

“Nerve endings. The arm is full of artificial nerve endings. They are incapable of feeling pain, but they can sense anything else.” She bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet. “Try to pull it off, Captain, try to pull it off.”

Bucky looked to Steve with a raised eyebrow. Steve shrugged and tugged at the arm, immediately pulling his hand away with a surprised exclamation.

“Wh-“

T’Challa laid his hand on Shuri’s shoulder. “You did the same to his arm that you did to my suit?”

Shuri nodded with a grin. “The arm works immediately to repel hostile…”

Bucky stopped listening. He inspected the arm, running light fingertips over its plates. The surface was completely smooth- strangely skin-like, even. He applied pressure to the base of the palm, and the fingers flexed.

Shuri showed him his new weapons, all of them made of vibranium and none of them with a single dispensable part. The rifles shot purple light that enveloped and disintegrated every target that Shuri set up for him in one hit. Each knife was self-sharpening, self-repairing- some with a switch on the hilt that surrounded the blade in the same purple light.

T’Challa and Shuri observed quietly as Okoye showed Bucky how to use each weapon. Steve looked on for a while until his phone rang. He strode back to their camp to take the call.


	31. Chapter 31

“I have to go, Buck.”

Bucky slowly raised his head, his expression carefully blank. “Mission?”

Steve nodded. He looked as though he was going to say something else, but Bucky bent his head back over the bundle of dark cloth in his lap, sewing up tears and reinforcing scratches that he hadn’t yet gotten the chance to mend.

“Wait, is that-“

“Every Thursday, Steve.” He tied off a thread and sliced off the extra end with a small knife. Got up, pushed the bundle into Steve’s arms.

“Bucky, wait-“

Bucky wasn’t listening. He was already pushing aside the curtain on the door.

“Buck-“

Steve stumbled after him as Bucky swiped up the empty water jar and headed for the well.

Bucky stopped dead in his tracks with a hand gripping his arm.

“Don’t go, Buck.”

Bucky didn’t turn around. He swallowed. “I ain’t going anywhere.”

Careful hands lifted the water jar from his head and set it on the ground. Bucky’s shoulders began to shake.

“Leave.”

“No, Buck.” His voice grew softer. “Not until I get the chance to say goodbye.”

“I don’t want to.” Bucky pressed his lips together in a thin line and glanced upward, willing his body to stop its shaking.

“You think I do?” Steve let go of Bucky’s arm.

Bucky shook his head. “You need to leave.”

“Yeah, and you need to stay.”

“That’s the problem, pal.”

Steve was silent.

Bucky took in a breath. “Why do you want to say goodbye?”

Steve’s voice was barely more than a whisper when he finally answered.

“I don’t know if I’ll be back.”

The words hung in the air between them, an icy touch in the midst of the heat of Wakanda.

Bucky turned, face stoic and shoulders shaking. Steve met his eyes.

“‘Til the end of the line, Buck.”

Bucky nodded. His face contorted. “Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Did you ever get that dance? With Peg?”

Steve was stunned.

“N-no, Buck. I-no, I didn’t. You remember Peggy?”

Bucky blinked. “I remember everything.”

He picked up his jar, turned, and continued on his way.

Steve didn’t follow him this time.


	32. Chapter 32

Bucky sat with his back to the well, staring at the treeline. He took some water from his jar and sipped it from his hands.

“You are alone.”

Bucky said nothing.

“You have not been alone for a very long time.”

Bucky nodded, staring straight ahead.

The visitor laid a hand on his head. “You could stay with us. If you need to, that is. We have not forgotten.”

“No,” Bucky murmured. “I’ll be fine, Sarihah. Thank you.”

She lifted her hand.

A boy sat down next to Bucky. He almost didn’t recognize the child; he was significantly taller since the last time he had seen him.

“Come, Jorohe. Do not bother that man-“

“White Wolf,” the boy said.

Bucky raised his eyebrows in question.

The boy stood and, with a final glance behind, followed his mother.

_ These are your people now. _


	33. Chapter 33

Another night came and went. Bucky didn’t sleep.

He rolled up his bed at the break of dawn, setting it aside and dragging a bucket filled with clean water to the center of the floor. Flipping his hair forward, he dipped it into the bucket. He emptied some of the contents of a small bottle from his basket of soap into his palm and worked it through the dripping, tangled mass, combing through it with his fingers as he did until he was satisfied. He reached for a towel and was met with nothing.

Sighing, long hair dripping down his back, he stood and drew aside his curtain-door.

A small wooden box sat outside Bucky’s hut.

He raised his eyebrows. A message was written across its lid.

‘Use it.

\- Nakia’

He nudged it inside the hut with his heel. First priority: towel.

He returned with his hair neatly wrapped in a bundle that sat atop his head, folding himself onto the woven rug that covered the hut’s dirt floor and setting the box in his lap.

Carefully, he removed the lid. Nestled in a pile of bubble wrap was a small rectangle, composed of glass and some sort of metal that he guessed was vibranium. He picked it up. The device lit up at his touch. Wakandan symbols were etched into the side that was completely covered with metal. He looked back to the screen.

_ Oh. _

Bucky began to set up his preferences for the device, which turned out to just be a variety of Wakandan cellphone. He looked in his list of contacts, seeing that it was already equipped with a few: Nakia, Shuri, Sam, Steve, and someone named Natasha.

Bucky’s thumb hovered over Steve’s number. He contemplated it, swiped upward, and tapped Sam’s.

It rang, then played Sam’s voicemail.

“Hey, Sam.”

He paused for a second, then ended the call.


	34. Chapter 34

A faint rattling could be heard from the opposite side of Bucky’s hut to where he sat calmly upon a small cushion, drying one of his mugs. He looked up in confusion.

No one called him anymore. Unless…

Bucky stood, set the mug on the cushion, and stepped across the room to the phone he still didn’t quite know what to do with.

He answered it without looking to see who it was.

“...hello?” a familiar voice questioned.

“Hi.”

“...is this… this is Bucky, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“Hello, Bucky. This is Nakia.”

“Hi.”

“Would you like to practice sparring, Bucky? Okoye needs to go with T’Challa to America for the day and I am bored out of my mind.”

“Sure.”

“Great. I will meet you at your hut, yes? I will bring the arm and necessary weapons.”

“Thank you.”

Nakia ended the call.

 

—

 

“It is good to see you, my friend. How have you been feeling?”

“Good.” Bucky glanced to the side, to the arm and the case of knives.

Nakia squinted at him. She did not smile. “Bucky. You want to fight for Wakanda, yes?”

“Of course.”

“Then you must practice. Keeps your skills sharp.”

Bucky nodded and reached for the arm. He deftly attached wire to wire, switched on the light that he still didn’t fully understand. He twisted the hand around a few times. The arm felt like a natural extension of himself from the moment he put it on, but he did it anyway- if only to make sure that everything was in working order.

Nakia extended a vibranium staff, violet-tinted light shining from the ends. She stepped to the side and squared her stance, the weapon tilted toward Bucky.

He faced Nakia with a knife in each hand, his kevlar vest and dark canvas trousers acting as an anchor to his purpose:

_ You will always be a soldier. _

Bucky slashed and parried, ducking down, leaping to the side, nearly always keeping the arm before him. He learned early on why Steve always kept that one vibranium shield. The thing could take a hit and then some.

He almost missed the rush of the fight. Killing without thought, slashing and moving with a lethal combination of ruthlessness and recklessness, not a single thought of the fallout.

He  _ almost _ missed it.

Bucky knew he wouldn’t tire of sparring, but when Nakia began to slow up, he let his metal fist close around the staff just below its shock of purple. Nakia huffed her gratitude and promptly sat on the ground.

“You’ve still got it, you’ve definitely still got it,” she wheezed, retracting her staff and lying back on the sparse grass below them.

Bucky nodded.

_ If you only knew. _

Blink, flex your fingers.

Without a word, he left to get a mug of water from within the hut.


	35. Chapter 35

Bucky’s thoughts echoed off of his string of empty huts, through the tall grasses and over the lake beyond.

Nakia stopped visiting, Shuri became wrapped up in her work. T’Challa stayed thoroughly busy with his duties, and Okoye stood by his side through all of it.

Bucky fetched water from the well. He washed the huts, cleaned his weapons. Tended to his small garden, rinsed his dishes, cooked, slept, woke up screaming. Over and over again, every single day.

He knew he didn’t need weapons practice, so he didn’t do it. Save the ammunition for when you need it.

War was coming. This time, he wouldn’t be able to sit out the fight.


	36. Chapter 36

Steve called.

He greeted Bucky, asked how he’d been, and was met with silence. Bucky knew that tone. He knew it. He could see Steve standing on his doorstep; the bustling city screamed around them, but Bucky had cotton in his ears. Steve had lost another fight, bloody and limping and cradling a finger bent in a very wrong direction to his chest.

Steve was smaller then. Smaller and much less tired.

“...Buck?”

“What happened?”

Steve sighed. “The team… we took a hit. There’s some guy on his way- name’s Thanos, I guess? He’s trying to get all of these infinity stones. We don’t really know why yet, but… they tried to dig one straight out of Vision’s forehead.”

Bucky cringed. “Jesus.”

“Yeah,” Steve muttered.

“You alright? You seem a little…”

“Yeah, this guy…” Steve cleared his throat. “This is an ultimate-power kinda thing, Bucky. Guy’s worse than the Red Skull, he doesn’t know when to stop.”

Bucky stopped pacing, looked up. “What do you need me to do?”

“For now? Stay out of it. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Can’t do that.”

“What? Buck-“

“I said I’d fight, and I will.”

“Bucky, please-“

“Steve.”

The kid, the one who once looked like a dead man walking and smelled of sweat and lye soap, still didn’t want Bucky to fight for him. This time, though, Bucky didn’t want to fight either.

_But_ _you have to keep him safe._

“I’ll fight when you need me. ‘Till then, I’ll stay right here.”

Steve paused.

“Yeah, Buck. Yeah, okay.”


	37. Chapter 37

Live the days between in quiet tension. Recognize everything around you as a gift. Write a letter, write another. Tuck them into envelopes, set them atop your desk and don’t look at them in the following days. They are goodbyes; you know you won’t come back.

Wake up gasping sobs instead of screaming. You’re falling from a train, he’s falling from the sky. You’re breaking into pieces,  _ how is that possible? _

Bucky wrapped his three mugs in cloth, arranged them in the bottom of a basket. Placed his wooden bowls and spoons of varying sizes atop them, set the ladle over a last layer of cloth and covered that too. Moved on to the next basket; placed the trowel and glove beside his thriving plants and ran a fingertip over the wooden mouse among them from tiny nose to tail. Shifted the basket slightly so that it stood in the center of the window’s patch of sun.

_ Say goodbye. You won’t come back. _

 

—

 

A small army marched toward Bucky’s hut. He almost wanted to stay inside, wanted to hide and pretend he wasn’t even there.

But they had the case with them, and he had made a promise.

It was time.

Bucky rose from his cushion, closed the box of recipes and set it aside. Cast one final glance at your home; you might never see it again.

Sorrow wrenched at Bucky’s mind, but he shook it away.

He didn’t have the luxury of sentiment. Not anymore.

Hold your head high, don’t look back. Let the fires of gratitude to these people, this place, feed your spirit. Don’t look back.  _ Don’t look back. _

They opened the case for him without a word. T’Challa looked at him, kindness and something like an apology in his gaze.

Bucky swallowed.

“Where’s the fight?”


	38. Chapter 38

Shuri had engineered new armor for him- a coat of deep blue and jade-green trousers, equipped with pockets packed with refill charges for the weapons in case something should go wrong. 

The coat looked familiar. It wasn’t the same, but it was familiar. Heavy, too.

He was more grateful than he could say.

 

—

 

_This isn’t real_.

Bucky stood back as T’Challa greeted a number of people. Steve was among them, as was Sam, and that was all Bucky needed to know.

He listened to T’Challa and studied Steve’s face. He looked… older. Impossible, but true. He had a beard where scruffy stubble had once been, his forehead was creased and scraped.

Steven Grant Rogers, God’s righteous man.

_ What have you done to him? _

But Bucky forced a smile, strode up to Steve as T’Challa told him Wakanda would stand with him.

“And a semi-stable 100-year-old man,” he said, holding out a hand.


	39. Chapter 39

Steve walked next to Bucky. He tried to make conversation. At first, Bucky didn’t respond. He simply watched Steve, listening to how his voice rose and fell, memorizing every detail of his face.

He had never felt like this before a battle in his life. He never went into a battle expecting to come out on top, but this time...

This time, he knew he wouldn’t come out at all.

Steve was telling some story about a joke Sam had made. He got to what Bucky assumed was the punchline, and Bucky smiled.

“See? I knew I could get a reaction out of you.”

Bucky shook his head at Steve’s sudden elation. His grin faded quickly, though.

Steve gazed at him for a moment. “How are you, Buck? Really?”

Bucky shook his head. Steve reached out, kept a hand on his shoulder as they walked.

“I’ve missed this place, y’know?”

“Yeah?” Bucky said, turning to him in faint surprise.

Steve studied him for a moment. “Yeah.”

The grass swished softly about their feet as the captain and the soldier moved side-by-side down a gentle slope.

Steve shook his head. “I can’t promise anything, but… if… if I don’t...”

“I’m with you,” Bucky murmured.

Steve looked away. “Yeah. Yeah, I- yeah.”


	40. Chapter 40

Bucky’s thoughts shut off sometime between the battle cries of the Wakandans and his first kill.

Every now and then, though, something was just weird enough to get his attention. Besides the fact that actual aliens were ripping straight through a forcefield before his very eyes, of course.

So there was a raccoon that could talk, _really_ enjoyed shooting weapons, and wanted to buy both his gun and his arm.

It was a _raccoon,_ though.

_I mean… alright._

There was also a lightning… guy…?

_Cool…?_

At least they were both on his side.

Bucky was only really worried the moment the battlefield went silent.

When a big purple humanoid thing stepped through a portal, Bucky thought he’d reached the end.

Steve was at his side, though. Steve was at his side.

_Protect him with your life._

Bucky watched in horror as his comrades began to throw themselves at the thing, desperately trying to cause any damage they could. He did the same.

He was batted away like a rag doll, made to look on as Steve took on the titan hand-to-hand.

He held his own, but not for long.

Bucky was losing consciousness; the fact that at least two of his ribs were broken barely registered.

For the briefest of moments, it seemed that they had won. For the briefest of moments, a burst of electric red and shining gold exploded from the forehead of a man called Vision who didn’t actually look like a man at all.

A woman stood over his form, weeping and gasping, fluttering her hands over his body. Her eyes were wide with loss.

The titan reversed time.

_Oh, for f-_

He ripped the stone from Vision’s face, and with a wrenching _crack_ , the being fell to the ground, grayish and lifeless.


	41. Chapter 41

Thanos snapped his fingers.

Bucky didn’t feel right.

It started in his head; this feeling of complete lightness, of a numb sort of pushing pain that extended throughout his body. His skin was being pricked with a thousand needles, like his entire body was turning to static.

So this was the way he would go.

He looked at he forest, looked at his hands, twisted both of his arms, made sure he wasn’t trapped in a nightmare.

_I don’t want to go._

 

 

 

“Steve?”


End file.
